


Not Unless Sam Says

by spectaculacularsammy



Series: Not Unless Sam Says [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Butt Plugs, Consensual Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom!Sam, Edging, Established Relationship, F/M, Impala is their safeword, Masturbation, Multi, Orgasm Denial, Phone Sex, Praise Kink, Reader Insert, Sam calls his dick a baseball bat, Sam calls reader little girl & baby girl & variations thereof - possible squick, Sam's Neck Sweat, Spanking, Swearing, Voyeur Dean Winchester, Voyeur Sam Winchester, always a safeword, consensual voyeurism, i realize i'm biased because I wrote this but this is friggen hot as hell, sub!Reader, the reader calls Sam "Daddy", you were a bad girl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-12
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-04 10:02:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1775122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spectaculacularsammy/pseuds/spectaculacularsammy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off of this Dirty Supernatural Imagine:<br/>http://dirtysupernaturalimagines.tumblr.com/post/87338335982/source </p><p>(Imagine Sam punishing you by making you get off in front of him and Dean)</p><p>The first chapter is based off the imagine, the second two are delicious little continuations :)<br/>Made this lil thing into a series. Hopefully there will be many, many more parts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not Unless Sam Says

"How many times have I told you? When we’re on a hunt you do _exactly_ as I say?" Sam yells.

"I know." Your shoulders slump and you plop down on the couch. "I’m sorry, Sam, I wasn’t thinking."

"You’re damn right you weren’t thinking! Jesus, _______, you could have been killed! If Dean wouldn’t have come when he did, it would have…" Sam’s voice trails off.

He’s never this gruff with you. Ever. It’s just that this time was close…too close, and it scared Sam. He doesn’t even have to say what would have happened if Dean wouldn’t have been there, because you know exactly what would have happened.

Sam sits next to you and pulls you into his lap, holding you tightly. "It could have been so bad," he whispers.

"I know Sam, I’m so sorry," you breathe into his chest. "It won’t happen again, I swear." And you mean it, the term ‘scared straight’ flashes in your head.

"I know it won’t." Then he falls silent as he rubs your back gently and kisses your hair.

He stays silent for so long, and memories of what happened flood back. Sam being held against the wall while the demon stood over you, and just at the last second Dean burst into the room with his flask of holy water. You know if Dean wouldn’t have been there, something horrible could have happened to you - something horrible could have happened to Sam.

"We talked about this, didn’t we?" Sam asks finally, (thankfully) interrupting your thoughts. "We talked about what your punishment would be if this happened again."

You nod your head into Sam’s chest. He’s right, he did give you plenty of warnings and you’ve discussed this more than once. “Yes, Sam," you whisper.

"You sit out the next five hunts: strictly research. You don’t leave the bunker, unless it’s with me or I specifically say, and I’ll take the night to figure out the rest. This can’t happen again, it just can’t."

You nod your head again. “Yes, Sam.”

You hate when Sam doesn’t tell you what your punishment is going to be, but you keep quiet. This is the way things are with Sam. These are the things you agreed upon when the two of you got together. The term “girlfriend” seems so trivial for what you are to him, and for what Sam is to you: you're simply _his._

That night, the next morning, and afternoon are horrible: you’re nervous, fidgety, and anxious.

Sam has been in the library with Dean for over an hour. He left you in the archive room to put away a stack of file folders the three of you used on the last handful of hunts, and just as you put the last folder away, Sam opens the door.

"Just finished," you announce with a smile.

Sam grins. “That’s my good girl.” He takes your hand, leads you down the hallway to his room, and closes the door behind the two of you. “Clothes off.”

You freeze for just a second, but then realize what this is. You toe your shoes and socks off, pull your shirts over your head and unclasp your bra, letting them all fall to the floor. Your jeans and your panties come off next.

"On your back, on the bed." Sam never barks orders, they’re never mean, just straight forward, matter of fact. They always made you wet, and they made you ache.

You do as he says and lie down the thin tan blanket on Sam’s bed. You try to control your breathing. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you’re anxious and already ridiculously turned on.

Sam covers you with a dark blue sheet and sits down on one of the two chairs positioned not three feet from the end of the bed. “You know what this is, right?”

You try with everything you have to hold back a shiver, but it’s impossible. You look up at Sam and nod your head. “Yes, Sam.”

Sam will sometimes times make you touch yourself, but his twist is that you can only do what he says. He tells you _exactly_ where to put your hands, where to put your fingers, how fast - or how slow - to move them, and when you’re allowed to come, _if_ he lets you come at all. Sam never touches you when he does this, he just watches; Sam likes to watch.

Bringing you out of your thoughts, Sam sharply knocks his knuckles on the wall, and the door opens slowly. You lift you head up off the bed to see who it is.

It’s Dean.

With a confused gasp, you pull the sheet close to you and open up your mouth to call out to Sam, to ask what is going on, but he’s by your side before you can make a sound.

He whispers in your ear, “You can use the safe word now or at any time, and everything will stop.”

Your mouth falls open, and you look at Sam with big eyes. _He’s serious? He’s going to make me do this with Dean sitting right there?_

Sam kisses you on the forehead and walks back over to his chair at the end of the bed and sits. "Say the safe word, out loud.”

You let your hands rest on the bed at your sides, and your head falls back on the pillows. Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes and breathe out, "Impala."

You hear one of the brothers shift in their chair and clear their throat nervously: it has to be Dean. Sam would never do that, not at a time like this.

You breathe in to ask Sam something, but change your mind, and a small noise escapes your throat.

Of course, Sam hears it. ”______, what were you going to say?” His voice is already low and gravelly.

"It’s just…can I… Do you want me to keep quiet?"

Sam chuckles quietly just a little bit.

Sometimes he will tell you to not make a sound: another twist in this particular punishment.

”Do you think you should be _allowed_ to make sounds?”

Your left hand grips the sheet. "Please, Sam?"

Being completely silent is hard. That, combined with Dean watching…there’s no way.

"Not a sound…" Sam says darkly.

At the same time you and Dean exhale stuttered breaths.

"…until I say."

"Jesus, Sammy," Dean groans, his voice breathy and lower and more rough than usual.

You nod your head.

"You know the rules: you do _exactly_ as I say, when I say to do it. You are allowed to come _only_ when I tell you to... _if_  I tell you to. If you understand, toss the sheet on the floor."

You blow out the breath you’ve been holding in your lungs and drag the soft cotton sheet across your body, then toss it aside. Your eyes close, and you wait for Sam.

"Knees up and spread your legs, little girl; let me have a look at you."

You can’t see Sam’s face, but if you could, you’d see his tongue slip down over his bottom lip and lick like he always does. You’d also see him lean back in the chair and rub the palms of his hands on his jeans. You do, however, hear a small groan slip passed his lips when you do as he says. You can feel the reason for his groan: you’re dripping wet. You also hear Dean draw in a sharp breath, and just knowing he’s there - watching you, watching _this -_ you almost let out a whimper, but you don’t; you just do as Sam asks.  
  
"Put two fingers in your mouth, get them wet, and bring them down between your legs. Slowly." Sam’s voice doesn’t sound anything like himself right now. At times like this it never does: deep, low, rugged.

You don’t have to be able to see his face to know exactly what he looks like right now: His hair, no doubt, a bit disheveled, with pieces framing his face and falling in his eyes. His lips are probably dark and shiny from licking them and maybe dragging his bottom lip through his teeth, but it's his eyes that are always the first to go. His pupils blow and almost completely cover the blues, greens, browns, and yellows of his hazel eyes, but that's not the best part. The best part, the part you wish you could see, is the thin layer of sweat that breaks out on his brow, on his neck, and on his chest. You love to nose at his neck, lick at the sheen and breathe in his scent - a faint combination of soap, gun powder, and the musk of his deodorant.

You bring your hand to your mouth and suck in the first and middle fingers. Your tongue swirls around your fingertips, down to the second knuckle, slicking them up, and then you slide them slowly down between your legs. You almost slide them into your folds, but you stop yourself; _Sam didn’t say._  

 

Obediently, you just rest your hands on yourself, on the small patch of short curly hair and bite your lip when you try to hold back a whimper.

 

"Good girl," Sam’s rough voice praises you for doing exactly what he said. "Find your clit, little girl, rub it for _us_ nice and slow. Rub it in small circles…small, _slow_ circles."

 

Dean’s breath stutters, and you assume it's because of Sam’s choice in pronouns: "us.”  _Rub it for us._ It caught your attention too, but the gentle pressure that your hand makes against your soft folds sends an oh-so small wave of pleasure that makes you crave more, so you follow Sam’s instruction and slide your fingers up against your clit, moving in small circles. You hips rock up against your own hand, and you clench your jaw to keep quiet.

"Yeah, just like that, little girl. Keep doing that, and with your other hand, pinch your nipple; roll it between your fingers."

Just like Sam said, you grab your nipple, pinching just a little bit and start to roll it between your fingers, while your other hand is still between your legs, making those small and slow circles around your clit. Your toes curl on the sheet as you swallow a groan.

Sam keeps quiet, but you can hear both him and Dean breathing. Without even looking, you're able to distinguish which breathing belongs to which brother. You didn’t think it would, but the extra audience is turning you on, and all you want to do is come.

Sam’s breath is so familiar that you can almost picture his chest rising and falling the way it does when he breathes hard: after a hunt or after his daily run…after sex. Dean’s breath, however, is needy. You kind of feel bad for him, and you’re not sure who this is harder on, you or him.

You try to think about anything besides wanting to come, besides wanting to call out to Sam, wanting his hands, his mouth on you, his cock in you. You try to think of anything other than those things.

You breathe deeply and try to think of something completely un-sexy, anything besides what is happening right now: Sam sitting just feet away from you, picturing him the way you know he looks, the feeling between your legs, Dean sitting there, so close. The mere thought makes toes curl involuntarily against the sheets again, and you choke down a moan, but a silent hiccup of air escapes from your mouth. _Nope_. _Can’t think about that._ But for the life of you, you can’t think of anything else, because nothing else exists right now.

Sam interrupts your thoughts. “You’re close, aren’t you, little girl? You’re doing so good, following my instructions and being so quiet, but you know you can’t come unless I say.”

The quietest, "Son of a bitch," escapes Dean’s mouth.

Sam snickers just a little bit. "You can stop, little girl; hands on the bed."

You let your hands fall to your sides and push your thighs together, rocking your hips back against the bed. Of course, this does nothing to relieve the ache in your core, in fact, it just makes it worse. There’s only one thing you need… _Sam_.

"You want to come, don’t you, ___________?"

Your hips rock up off the bed as an answer.

"Do you think you _deserve_ to come after what you did?"

You’re biting your bottom lip so hard that you can taste blood, and your hands grip the blanket below you as you writhe against it.

"You can answer me, little girl."

"Holy shit," Dean groans out and shifts in his chair, but you don’t hear it. You’re not paying attention to anything, but Sam’s voice.

"Please, Sam. Oh God, please. I need to come, please let me come." Your voice is shot, ragged from biting back moans, cries, and pleas.

"Slide two fingers inside your wet pussy and move them in and out, slowly. Spread your legs wide so we can see how beautiful you are."

Sam’s voice is as shot as yours. You don’t have to be able to see him to know he’s rock hard in his pants, leaning back in the chair with his legs spread out in front of him, and he's probably palming his bulge through the dark blue denim of his jeans.

Pushing those thoughts out of your head, you slide your fingers inside yourself. You’re soaking wet, so it’s easy – in and out, in and out. You want to rub your fingers against your g-spot, but you’re already on edge, and Sam still hasn’t told you when - or if - you get to come.  
  
"Make some noise for us, little girl. Make some pretty sounds for us, and _maybe_ I’ll let you come."

_Finally._

Your mouth falls open, and it’s not even a moan or a groan that escapes your lips, it’s a whine – a plea for Sam to let you come. In and out, in and out, go your fingers, your other hand clenches the tan blanket on the bed, like it will anchor you, like it will keep you from losing your mind.

"Sam, please. I need to come, Sam pleasepleaseplease. I need…oh god, I need…"

"What you _need_ , little girl, is to _do as you're told,_ " Sam answers slightly rough, his words have more than one meaning.

A strangled cry falls from your mouth, and a groan from Dean almost pushes you over the edge.

"Sam! Please…" Your hips stutter against your fingers. "Samohsamplease!"

"What do you think, Dean? Should I let her come?" Sam asks Dean for his opinion, his voice rough and ragged.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Sammy. Just let her…just let her, guh, _fuck_! Just let her come!" Dean sounds miserable, and if you could think about anything else, or  _feel_ anything else right now, you might feel bad for him.

Sam chuckles under his breath. ”You’ve done so good, little girl, so good for us. You’ve followed every instruction I’ve given you. Go ahead, make yourself come; make some pretty noises for us.”

It takes just a microsecond after Sam gives you permission for you to get yourself off with one of the most intense orgasms ever. Your inner walls clench around your fingers, your hips move up off the bed, your back arches, and you cry out to Sam. When you finally come down, Sam has you in his arms, he’s kissing your hair, your lips, and your neck.

"Sam," you pant his name, "I swear it won’t happen again." Your breathing is heavy and coming in quickly, almost sobbing from relief.

"I know, I know, little girl," Sam murmurs in your ear, kissing along your neck and jaw.

Dean grumbles as he walks out of the room, "Not sure who _the fuck_ just got punished, but I don’t think it was either of you!" The door slams behind him.

"Poor Dean," you say to Sam as you catch your breath.

"He’s a big boy, he can take care of himself." Sam grins down at you, and then cocks an eyebrow. "Unless…you’re in the mood to take some more directions; maybe you can help Dean out.I do like to watch…”


	2. Dean's Turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your Sam likes to watch.

"I don't know who the fuck just got punished, but it wasn't either one of you!" Dean storms out of Sam’s bedroom, you don’t see the bulge in his pants, but you know it’s there. It has to be, after what he just watched. After what you just did, Dean has to be hard as a rock. 

"Poor Dean," you playfully whine to Sam as you catch your breath. 

Sam pulls the dark blue sheet up and drapes it over you, laughing just a little bit, cradling you in his arms. “He’s a big boy, he can take care of himself." Sam grins down at you, and after a pause he cocks an eyebrow at you. "Unless you’re in the mood to follow some more directions. Maybe you can help Dean out? I do like to watch…"

You raise your eyebrows at Sam. "Really? You want me and Dean to…while you watch? Really?" A smile tugs at your lips. Your Sam is pretty kinky, but this? "Did you have this planned all along?" You ask. 

There is no way Sam would ever  _make_  you have sex with Dean or anyone else for that matter. Sam would never  _make_  you do anything, there was always the safe word, but this… _this_ is totally new. 

Sam’s eyes reveal himself in an instant, he’s totally serious. "Only if you want to."

You shrug with mock-innocence, which doesn’t for even one second fool Sam. "Go ask him." You smirk mischievously.

Sam kisses you hard on the mouth and jumps up off the bed; he’s gone before you can look up. You let out a small giggle and let yourself fall back onto the bed. 

"Holy crap," you whisper to yourself. " _Holy_ _crap_."

Part of you is more nervous than you’ve ever been. Having sex with Dean? Having sex with Dean when Sam is just a few feet away?  Having sex with Dean, _regardless_ of Sam's location? Sure, you’re nervous, but _Jesus…_

Before you can finish your thought, Dean peeks his head in the door, and you sit up on the bed, with the sheet wrapped around you.

The apples of his cheeks are flushed. You can’t tell if it’s from however Sam just proposed this idea to him – you make a mental note to find out the exact verbiage of that particular conversation – or if it’s from watching you get yourself off. Probably a combination of both. 

Sam walks up behind him and gives Dean a little nudge into his room. Dean’s eyes meet yours. You just look up at him and swallow nervously. 

Sam slides his chair from the end of the bed to the side of the bed, and the sound of the wooden legs scraping on the floor makes you shift your attention to him.

Sam’s eyes meet yours, and he flashes a sexy half grin, his dimples prominent. Your cheeks flush (again…more…whatever) and you smile and shake your head. You think to yourself,  _This is crazy._

You catch movement out of the corner of your eye and look back toward Dean. He’s pulling his shirts over his head and unbuckling his belt. You see his hands shake just a bit. As he starts to push his boxer briefs and jeans to the floor, Sam clears his throat. You both look to Sam. 

"You both do exactly as I say.   _Exactly_."

It’s obvious that his words are meant for Dean, it’s Sam’s way of saying he’s in charge. 

Dean makes a face at Sam, and you don’t have to be a mind reader to know what he’s thinking, _You’re such a control freak._  

Dean’s right, Sam is a total control freak. You smirk. You like it.

Sam raises a suspicious eyebrow at you. He’s smirking too.  

You hear the clang of Dean’s belt buckle hitting the floor. Shifting your gaze to Dean again, you see that he’s completely naked and it’s clear you were right, he is  _hard_   _as a rock_. He climbs up on to the end of the bed, there is as much space as possible between the two of you. You both look eagerly to Sam.  

"Whenever you’re ready," Sam breathes.  

Dean crawls on his hands and knees up to the head of the bed, to where you’re sitting. His green eyes meet yours as he slowly pulls the dark blue sheet off of your body, the soft cotton dragging against your skin. You lean back and pull your knees up and apart, a silent invitation for Dean.  

He watches you do this and looks down on you, groaning in appreciation as he looks down between your legs. His eyes closing for just a moment as he rolls them back into his head, letting out a heavy sigh, a  _needy_  sigh, similar to the ones you heard earlier.

Accepting your invitation, Dean kneels between your knees – his hands supporting his weight on the bed just below your shoulders, and he moves his face to yours, but he stops just inches before his lips touch yours.

"Is this okay?" Dean whispers roughly, but so soft you barely hear him, his words meant just for you.

You slightly nod your head and wink up at him. Just a hint of a grin spreads across his face as he bends down and kisses you. 

You knew it was coming – the kiss – but it still takes you by surprise, and you moan just a little bit against Dean’s lips. He winds the fingers of one hand into your hair and uses the other to reach around your back, pulling you up against him, his chest pressed against yours. His lips are soft and rough all at the same time, and not that you spend your time imagining how Dean tastes, but now that his lips are on your mouth, his tongue greedily seeking yours, his taste makes sense. He tastes a little like coffee, a lot like whiskey, with the faintest traces of the pecan pie he ate at lunch. 

You bring your arms around Dean’s neck, pulling him closer to you, kissing him harder when Dean situates himself so he’s sitting on the bed, and he pulls you onto this lap. You feel his hard cock press into the inside of your thigh, and you groan in his mouth. 

Dean pulls his mouth from yours and kisses his way down your jaw, pulling your upper body backward by your hair so he can kiss down to your neck, trading kisses for nibbles and gentle bites. As he does this, your eyes glance over at Sam, he’s leaning back in the chair, his legs spread with his hand palming himself through his jeans.

He grins devilishly at you and clears his throat, readying himself for his first instruction. "Take him in your hands and jack him,  _slowly_ , just a couple times. Then, take him in your mouth, little girl, show Dean how good at sucking cock you are," Sam pauses, "But  _no one_  comes until I say."

Moving backward, just a little on Dean’s lap, you reach down and gently wrap your hand around his hardness, moving your hand up and down, doing just what Sam asked. After a deep groan falls from Dean’s lips, you maneuver yourself so you’re able to take him into your mouth, licking the sensitive underside with your tongue. After hearing Dean gasp, you add the slightest amount of suction, moving your mouth up and down over his hard shaft. Dean is now letting out all kinds of moans and low sounds, his hands are wound in your hair, not pressing down on your head, but gently letting you know how he likes to be sucked.    
  
“Just like that, little girl," Sam praises, "Suck him down as far as you can."  
  
You obey Sam, the head of Dean’s cock pressing against the back of your throat. Your eyes just start to water as you swallow the tangy taste of precome. You almost don’t hear Sam tell you to stop, but when you do, you immediately obey.

Breathlessly you sit back on your knees, panting just a little, and Dean reaches up to wipe your face and smooth your hair. You whine at his touch. Your core aches, you know exactly what you want, exactly what you want Dean to do…what you want Sam to  _tell him to do._ And it’s as if Sam can read your mind.

"_________, lie back on the bed, and spread your legs for Dean."

Sam is still rubbing himself through his jeans, but he’s moved his chair closer to the bed, at least another foot closer.

You lie back on the bed, your eyes shifting between both Sam and Dean, unable to decide which one to vote  _"Mostly Likely To Devour You In The Next Ten Seconds"._    
  
"Dean, rub her clit nice and slow while you slide your fingers in and out of her for a bit. I bet you’re nice and ready, aren’t you little girl?"

Dean doesn’t waste anytime following Sam’s instructions, your eyes squeeze shut, wrinkling your forehead and breathing in hard. A whimper escapes your mouth, "Yes, Sam. I’m ready. Please…"

"Just a little bit longer, little girl, I know you can wait just a little bit more."

Sam’s belt is unbuckled, his pants are unzipped, and he’s rubbing himself through his boxers. His breathing is louder, and you can see a thin layer of sweat on his chest and neck. You shift your vision back to Dean: his eyes are hooded, and his mouth is hanging open a little bit, but when he realizes you’re looking at him, a sound comes from his chest, almost a growl. You hear Sam laugh low and dark.

"I think Dean’s waited long enough, don’t you, _______?" Sam teases.

It’s your turn to tease Dean, “I don’t know Sam, maybe we should make him wait a little—  OH! De-Dean! Holy shit!” Dean jams his fingers inside of you harder, hitting your g-spot perfectly, over and over and over again. "Sam, oh God, please." You quickly change your mind. "Sam, yes! He's waited enough!"

Sam snickers darkly, "Alright Dean, you can…"

Sam doesn’t even get to finish what he was going to say, and Dean slams into you, once, twice, three times, and he pulls you back up to his chest, with your legs wrapped around his waist.

Dean’s hands firmly grip your hips while he pulls you on to him and pounds up into you. You wrap your arms around Dean’s neck to hang on, and his mouth crashes into yours; his tongue invading your mouth as the skin of his hips slaps against yours.

Dean’s low moans turn breathy and needy, you almost hear him murmur your name, but he cuts it off pressing his mouth to your neck. He’s going to leave marks, but you could care less.

You rock yourself into Dean’s hard thrusts; you’re so close, and you can tell by the noises Dean’s making, he is about ready to blow, too. Probably has been this whole time. 

Your eyes flicker over to Sam, and you see that he’s got his boxers and jeans pushed down to the middle of his thighs, one hand is sliding up and down his cock while the other rubs his balls. Your eyes meet Sam’s just for a second, when Dean grabs your face and turns it back to him. His eyes, his mouth, they’re silently…well,  _wordlessly_  begging you, they’re telling you that he  _has to come_.  He’s at his breaking point, and it’s clear that he’s not going to last a minute longer.

Knowing there is _no way_ Dean is going to beg Sam – there is no _fucking_ way – you do it for him.

"Sam, please, I need to come.  Please, Sam, let us come; let us come  _for you,_ " You beg for Dean.

Sam’s hand is moving faster over himself, and his breath is tight and fast. "Yes, _______, little girl, come for me." Sam groans through his tightly clenched jaw. His hips bucking up against his hand as he comes in his hand. Your name and a string of filthy profanity falling from his lips. 

You move your hips harder over Dean as your orgasm rips through you, crying out into Dean’s neck.  

Dean is seconds behind you; his hips losing their rhythm as he comes hard, fingers digging into the skin on your hips. His head rests on your shoulder as you both catch your breath, coming down from your orgasms.

He kisses you just behind your earlobe and whispers, "You should get into trouble more often. _Totally_ worth it."

He catches his breath for another five seconds, gets up off the bed, and collects his clothing from the floor, pausing only to wink at you while pulling on his boxers. He leaves the bedroom, closing the door behind him. 

Sam slides into bed behind you, nuzzling your hair and kissing your neck. 

"You did good, little girl; you did  _real_  good."

The End.  
  
_(Until you get into trouble again.)_

 


	3. When Sam's Away You Don't Get To Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> after many, many, many, MANY requests, I'm continuing this. 
> 
> To the dear Nonnie who requested this, sorry it took me so long & Happy Thanksgiving! :)

Part of your punishment for disobedience, was to sit out exactly five hunts and not to leave the bunker unless Sam specifically said. He firmly reminded you of this when he and Dean got a lead on a hunt a few states over.

Before the brothers departed, Sam made you repeat the terms of your punishment five times out loud, and also handed you a piece of paper with a hand-written list reiterating his instructions with a couple new ones: NO leaving the bunker, NO talking to Crowley, and absolutely, under NO circumstances were you allowed to touch yourself.

That had been two weeks ago.

For those two weeks, Sam and Dean had been on the road working back to back cases, leaving you alone in the bunker the whole time.

Every night, Sam called you, just to check up on things and to make sure his "good little girl" was being just that: a good little girl.

Eager to please Sam, you had been a good girl. You didn't leave the bunker, you didn't talk to Crowley, and as difficult as it was, you didn't touch yourself. Each night, when you reported your obedience, Sam praised you.

Like always, he called you his 'good little girl', told you how proud he was of you, and made dirty little promises of exactly how he was going to show his appreciation of your submissiveness. Sam chose his words carefully, making sure to use plenty of pet names, praising you every chance he got, and used plenty of descriptive words to describe in detail exactly what he was going to do to you when he came back to the bunker; all in a mischievous effort to bring about even more suspense, but it all made the reward a million times better.

On the twelfth day of Sam's absence, when you couldn't stand the constant ache between your legs any longer, you called Sam. You called him just to hear his voice, and the call went straight to voice mail. Leaving him a sweet message, you told him that you missed him, that you hoped that he and Dean were safe, and that you wished he'd be home soon. After you told him that you loved him, you ended the call, proud of yourself for not begging him to rescind his most difficult rule and tucked yourself into bed.

After tossing and turning for two hours, you heaved yourself out of your bed with a frustrated sigh, and padded down the hall to Sam's bedroom. As soon as you opened the door, his smell filled your nostrils, and practically made you drip. Breathing in the delicious scent of sandalwood, old books, and musk, you buried yourself in Sam's bed, almost able to pretend he was right there with you. 

Unable to contain yourself any longer, you reached for your phone to call Sam again. You were determined not to beg, not to plead, but to get him so riled up that he'd be filled with the same amount of want and need that you were.

Obviously still busy on the hunt, your call went straight to voice mail again, but that time your message wasn't as sweet as the one you left only hours before. Like Sam, you chose your words carefully, knowing which ones would make Sam instantly hard. 

"Daddy, I miss you. Just want to hear your voice,  _need_  to hear your voice. Want you to tell me where to put my hands, want to do it for  _you_. God, Sam, I just want your cock in my mouth. Wanna suck you off so good. Want you to come in my mouth, shoot that load I know has been building up. I know you miss me too, I know your big cock is aching for me. Want to come for you, Daddy. Please, let me come for you."

Satisfied with yourself and so sure Sam would call back at any minute, you ended the call and just waited.

But Sam's call never came.

An hour later, the call still hadn't come and you fell asleep, dreaming about Sam fucking you hard and fast, making good on all those filthy promises he made. 

At some point in the middle of the night, your phone buzzed next your head. Half-asleep, you answered it, groaning a sleepy, "Hello?"

"Thought you were going to be a good girl? Thought you were going to obey?" Sam growled his words into the phone and it was clear that he was not happy.

"I did. I have! I've followed all your instructions. I haven't left, I haven't talked to Crowley, and I haven't touched myself. I swear I haven't," you answered adamantly. Completely awake by then, you regretted your earlier phone call.

"I know what you were trying to do, little girl," Sam warned. "My rules were very specific. I told you no touching yourself while I was gone, and now I'm walking around the motel room, trying to hide the baseball bat in my pants! You were trying to get me just as frustrated as you are, weren't you?" Sam's voice was a low and rough whisper, obviously he was trying to keep his voice down so Dean wouldn't hear. 

"Yes, Sam. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have--"

Sam interrupted you, his tone harsh. "Second drawer of my dresser. I know you're in my room."

As your heart pounded in your chest, you crept out of Sam's bed and opened the second drawer of his dresser. On top of a neatly folded pile of plaid shirts were three butt plugs; the smallest one pink, the middle-sized one blue, and the largest one black.

"Sam, I'm sorry! Please, no. I'm sorry."

"Put it in," he ordered. "The lube is in my night stand."

At that point, you knew you could always safe word out. All it would take was for you to utter one little word, and Sam would call it all off, but always eager to please Sam, and knowing you deserved whatever he punishment he gave you, you obeyed. 

"Yes, Sam." Your fingers felt the hard and ridged material of each plug. Wanting desperately to choose the smallest version, not because it wouldn't hurt, but because you knew exactly where this was going. Sam wasn't going to let you come, at least not unless he came back to the bunker, and even then was iffy at that point. "Which one?"

"Whichever one you think fits the crime," Sam answered darkly.

Knowing you could have probably gotten away with the blue, middle-sized plug, you carefully picked up the black plug and cradled it in your hands, looking at its thick flared base. "The black one?"

"A wise choice, little girl. Lie down on the bed, loosen yourself up, and put it in," Sam ordered again.

Doing as Sam asked had been painful, but not from your fingers or from the wide black plug. The pain had been strong and deep inside your chest, all from disappointing Sam. The heavy feeling of remorse in your heart was a more painful punishment than Sam could ever dole out.

Biting back moans was difficult , but once the thick black plug had been firmly put into place, the ache between your legs was almost overwhelming, making the need from earlier before, a mere whisper in comparison.

Just as you opened your mouth to moan Sam's name, to beg for forgiveness and relief, Sam opened his and spoke with clear and concise instructions, "Not one word, little girl, not one damn sound. Edge.  _Now_."

Wanting to obey Sam to the letter, you slid your hand down between your legs and rubbed your clit, already hard and wet from the lack of attention over the last several days. You knew edging would be difficult, more difficult than any other time he'd made you do it, but wanting to please Sam, you did just as he said. 

"You know, Dean and I are only a few hours away. I  _was_  going to drive back to the bunker tonight, before we got back on the road for the next case, but now I definitely won't be doing that. Do you know why?" 

Obeying Sam's earlier command, you kept quiet, and just moved your fingers over that aching nub in your dripping folds, cursing yourself for that stupid phone call. 

"You can answer me." 

"Y-yes, S-Sam. I'm sorry, I sh-shouldn't have called you and said those things in my v-voice mail," you stuttered while forcing back the orgasm that wanted so badly to rip through you. 

"Four more edges and then hands on the bed, but leave the plug in." Sam told you in a husky voice. 

The throbbing in your core, accompanied by the thickness, stretching your ass, and Sam's heavy breathing over the phone, made it a thousand times more difficult, but you did just as Sam said. 

"Now," Sam started after you'd finished your five total edges, "Without touching yourself, and the plug still inside, I want you to tell me exactly what you would have done to me, if I would have come back to the bunker. I'm not the one in trouble here; I get to come tonight, but you, little girl, you aren't going to get to come for a  _very_  long time."

"B-but what about Dean? Isn't he there with you?" You moan, trying not to clench around the thick plug in your ass, or whine at the dark promise Sam just made to you.

"Dean just left; he’s out with some girl, not having to fuck his hand like I get to do. I wanted to be in bed with you, fucking that deprived pussy all night, but not now. So, tell me, ________, what would you have done?"

"Whatever you wanted me to do, Sam. Anything, anything at all."

Sam chucked and then let out a moan. "Good answer, little girl, but that's not gonna get me off, now is it?"

"God, Sam, would have--"

"I believed you called me something else in your little message," Sam interrupted with a deep groan.

"Would have sucked your big cock,  _Daddy._ Would have taken it so far in my mouth. Would have sucked your balls, and got them all wet, just the way you like. Would have licked that spot right behind them that you love me to lick and suck, but I know you wouldn't have wanted to come like that. No, you would have fucked me nice and slow, until I couldn't stand it anymore. You would have fucked me with that big dick of yours, in and out of my wet pussy, over and over again until we both came, and then we'd do it all over again. As many times as you wanted."

"God dammit, ________, yes, that's exactly what we would have done. I've been dreaming of devouring that tight little pussy of yours, licking you wide open until your legs shook, and you were out of your mind. Wanted to taste you, all soaking wet and ready for me, but now when I get back, that's all gonna change isn't it?" Sam didn't wait for you to answer. You could hear his hand, slick with lube or spit, jacking up and down his cock, and he was breathing heavily into the phone. "Now, when I get back, what's going to happen?"

You swallowed your own heavy breath. "I don't get to come."

"Damn right, little girl. Might be just for one day, might be more? We'll see how you behave over the next couple of days." Sam's breath was tight and his words were rushed, like he was very close to coming."

"Daddy," you purred, "Wish I could be making you come right now. Wish I was riding your huge cock, your hands so tight on my hips, pulling me down on you. C'mon, Sam. Daddy, just come." You clenched your hands around the blanket on Sam's bed, forcing yourself to keep your hands off your throbbing center and your plug stretched hole. Your words were only for Sam.

After a garbled string of words, Sam came with a heavy sigh into the phone along with a deep moan.

"I'm so sorry, Sam. I shouldn't have left you that message, it wasn't fair. I'm the one who disobeyed, I'm the one who was... _is_  being punished, I shouldn't have teased you like that. You're out there working hard and saving people. You don't need me distracting you like that. I'm sorry."

"I know you are, ___________. Baby, I know. I just want you safe, that's all I want. I was so scared before; I don't know what I would have done if Dean wouldn't have walked in when he did. __________, that demon would have killed you. It's important that you listen to me, that you listen to everything I say. It's my job to keep you safe. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sam. I understand."

"There's my good girl." You could hear Sam's sunshine smile over the phone. "You can take the plug out. Go clean up, and put it away. You going to be okay if I hang up, or do you need me to stay on the phone with you?"

"I'll be okay. G'night, Sam, I love you."

"I love you too, little girl. I'll call you in the morning."

-

Bright and early the next morning, Sam called, just like he promised.

"S'too early," you whined into the phone, forgoing any sort of proper salutation.

Sam chuckled at your slurred and sleepy words, "Hey, ____________. I know it's early, but I need you to wake up for me, just for a little bit, and then you can go back to sleep."

You grumbled into the phone just a little bit while pushing yourself up on Sam's soft pillows, and sat up against his headboard, "I'm up," you yawned your words, stretching your arms and legs. "Are you coming home?"

"I wish, but me and Dean found a case just a couple hours away from where we are. We're thinking it's just a simple salt and burn. I'll be back at the bunker in two days...three, tops."

"Oh," you tried to hide your disappointment. "Do you guys need any help? With research, I mean? I might be able to dig up something on who the spirit used to be?"

"Are you trying to get brownie points, __________?" Sam chuckled again into the phone.

"No!" You professed your innocence while laughing, "I was just thinking that if I helped you and Dean find whatever you need, the case wouldn't last as long."

"And we could save people sooner? Hopefully with little to no casualties?"

"Yes, Sam, of course."

"Good girl, _______. I'll call you tonight, okay? Go back to sleep."

"M'kay, Sam."

But Sam didn't call you that evening and still hadn't called you by the time you collapsed into the soft sheets of Sam's bed, your center aching, still. And your dreams were filled with Sam's huge hands, his equally huge cock, and the musky smell of the sweat that dripped down his neck.

You were fast asleep when your phone buzzed next to your head, but woke quickly to take Sam's call.

"Hi Sam," you murmured into the phone.

"How'd you know it was me?

"Who else would be calling me in the middle of the night?" You half giggled, half yawned into the phone.

"What did you do today? Were you a good girl?" Sam's voice came through the line thick and full of need, but oddly enough it was a whisper.

"Yes, Sam. I read for a while in the library and then watched TV. How did the hunt go?"

"Good. We're on our way right now. Should be back by day after tomorrow, late though."

"Late?" You whined in the phone.

"Do you miss me?" Sam's voice was still a deep whisper, but his intentions came through loud and clear.

"Yes, very much. Why are you whispering?"

"Dean's asleep, and I'm driving. How much do you miss me?"

"Lots. I wish you were here."

"I bet you do. I bet you've been wet all day, huh? You've been neglected for so long. You wanna touch yourself, don't you?"

"N-no, Sam."

He chuckled darkly. "No? I don't know that you're telling the truth, little girl."

"No. I want  _you_  to touch me.  _Need_   _you_."

"Edge, little girl. I want to hear you, but you don't get to come until I say. Tell me why you don't get to come."

You moaned in the phone and pushed your underwear down your legs. When your fingers slid down to your painfully hard clit you whispered, "I didn't listen. You told me to stay by your side, and I wandered off."

"And?"

"The voice mail."

"That's right. What else? Keep those fingers moving, don't you dare stop."

"I have to listen to you, when we're on hunts," you moaned, already feeling that warmness spreading in your middle. "I have to listen to you all the time, Sam."

"Very good, little girl. I bet you're close already. I bet you're so wet."

"Uh huh, Sam, I need--" but you cut your words off, determined not to beg.

"I know what you need, but the answer is no. Not unless I say. Keep those fingers moving," Sam repeated through a groan. "Wish I could see you, spread out on my bed. So needy, so sensitive. Soon, my good girl, so soon. You can stop."

It was a chore to take your fingers from the throbbing place between your legs, but Sam was so close to being home, you didn't want to disobey now. Trying to even out your breathing, you focused on the darkness of Sam's room. Finally the throbbing stopped, only to be replaced by the dull ache you'd felt for the last two weeks, but intensified.

"Do it again," Sam ordered, his voice still at whisper level. "I can't be there to punish you, so you have to do it."

You nodded your head, unable to speak, hoping that Sam knew your whole-hearted attempts at pleasing him. Once again your hand trailed down your stomach and stopped to rest for just a second between your legs. When your fingertips brushed against your sensitive clit, your hips bucked up into your own hand, and you moaned Sam's name.

"Do you want to come?"

Of course you did, but at the same time you didn't; still eager to follow Sam's direction. "Yes," you answered honestly.

"Do you  _deserve_  to come?"

"No, Sam. I-I didn't listen." Sam stayed silent, but you couldn't even if you wanted to. You moaned and whined into the phone, trying your hardest not to come, however, you were right on that edge. "Sam, have to stop, I'm going to-"

"No, little girl, _you're_ _not_. Listen to me, you don't  _get_  to come; ten more seconds." Then he counted backward. "Ten, nine, eight, seven, six..."

You didn't hear the rest and just kept focusing on not coming. Your fingers still moving over your almost painfully aroused clit.

"...Two, one. There. You can stop. Hands on the bed."

You obeyed with a painful whine.

"See? I knew you could do it. I bet you're aching for me, huh?"

"Yes, Sam. I-I...God, yes."

"Kay, can you be a good girl and go back to sleep?"

You pressed your thighs together and rocked back onto Sam's bed, wishing it were him you were pressed against. "Yes." You were quiet for a minute and then whispered, "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"I miss you."

"I know you do, little girl. I'll be there soon."

"Kay."

You didn't think you would, but as soon as your call was ended with Sam, you fell into a heavy and deep sleep.

-

Now, you gently rouse from sleep when you feel the bed shift next to you. Then the smell hits you; gun powder and Impala and Sam. He's right next to you, his body hot and curled around yours, pulling you tightly to him.

"You're back?" You murmur into Sam's naked and solid chest. "Thought you said two days?"

"I drove fast." Sam nips your earlobe with his mouth, and you can feel him smiling into your skin. "But I can go back if you want?"

"No, Sam, don't go. Please."

"Not goin' anywhere, little girl. I've got work to do." His fingers trail down your neck, leaving a burning path of fire behind and moving on to the outer curve of your breast, down your side to between your legs. Barely touching your skin, his finger grazes up your slit that's been wet for days, weeks even. When your hips involuntarily try to move up to chase his fingers, desperate for more, he pulls his hand away and traces the smooth skin of your inner thighs.

"I believe," Sam whispers in your ear. "We discussed what I was going to do to  _this_." Sam lightly taps your mound with his hand, the motion accenting his word, and when you only answer with a gasp and a whine, he repeats himself. "I  _said_ , I believe we discussed what I was going to do to _this_." Sam taps again, this time it borders on a spank.

"Yes!" You answer quickly and then moan. "God, yes, Sam."

"Tell me again, _______, why are you being punished?" Sam's hands go back to lightly brushing the crease of your skin where your thigh meet your hips, up and down to your ass.

"I didn't-I didn't listen...on the hunt. Have to listen." You know you have to answer or it'll never stop or even worse, it _will_ stop.

"And what happens when you don't listen?" His finger parts your folds and moves up and down, but never touches your clit.

"I don't get to," you breathe, lost and frustrated from your denial. "I don't get to come. Sam, I'm sorry. I'll listen!" you moan.

"I know you will; you've been such a good girl." Sam shifts on the bed, moves from next to you and drapes his body over yours, between your legs. You can feel his hard cock pressed into your skin. He kisses and licks around your nipples, never touching the hard peaks, dragging his teeth over your sensitive flesh. Then without warning, he slides so easily into your eager and wanting pussy.

He moves so slowly, purposefully not pressing into your clit and it's agonizingly amazing. Intentionally, his hips don't crash into yours, and with every slow thrust, his dick misses that spot inside you by  _this much._  When your hands fly up to touch him, he quickly grabs your wrists and pins them down to the bed, and a whimper mixes in with the constant moans and whines that fall from your mouth.

"Remember, not unless I say.  _If_  I say." Sam reminds in a husky voice.

It seems like years and seconds pass all at the same time where Sam moves inside you, still avoiding your g-spot and any pressure to your center. His cock just moves in and out, his hips stopping before the skin of his groin touches yours.

Bracing himself only on his knees and one hand, he brings the other hand down, trailing just millimeters away from your nipple, down your stomach and lightly brushes your clit.

You cry out at the miniscule touch. "Sam!"

Your brain is screaming at you to obey, to not come, but your body is searching for any amount of friction, reaching out for what seems like miles for relief.

Mercifully, Sam's hips pound just once into you, firing off thousands of sparks behind your eyes.

"Wouldn't take much, would it, little girl?" His finger grazes your clit again for a few seconds and then stops.

A tear falls from your each of your closed eyes, but not from sadness and not from pain, they fall from need and want, from a thousand different emotions coursing through your body. Immediately, Sam kisses them away, his lips lightly brushing your eye lids. "You've been so good for me." His hips thankfully grind against you, swiveling in that perfect way he always does.

"________, I need you to listen to me, right now. Listen to what I'm saying." Sam's hips slow back to that agonizing pace, and your eyes pop open and look up at him, eager to absorb each and every word. "I want you to show me how well you can obey, all right? You do NOT come until I say."

You shake your head. "Not until you say."

With quick snaps, Sam finds a punishing pace that almost instantly brings you to the edge, but you refuse to go over. Your inner thighs tremble and shake with your battle against the feeling inside you, the deprivation and the need almost consuming you. Then, just when you think you can't possibly hold it back any longer, Sam's head falls forward, and you feel his body shudder against yours. The deep groan that is almost a growl more than anything, bursts from his mouth and hips slow down, just barely pumping into you.

Even his tiny movements send bolts of pleasure through your whole body, but you know what's to come just as soon as Sam starts moving again.

"So good for me." Sam's hands find your wrists again and he slowly increases his speed.

"Sam, please. Touch. Need to..." You beg.

Knowing every inch of your body, every part of your heart and brain, Sam is completely aware of what you're asking. He takes his hands away from your wrists, and immediately your hands fly up to his sweat damp chest. Finally able to feel him under your fingers, your arms wrap around Sam's neck. He then pulls you up to him, your ass on his thighs while pounding your hips down over him.

"Come for me, little girl," Sam orders darkly, and then devours your mouth.

Finally, it's hard, finally the pressure and the friction are perfect, and it's just what you need; it takes mere seconds for you to comply. Your whole body shakes, but you hang on tightly to Sam's neck crying out and whispering his name over and over again. "SamSamsamsamsam."

Sam moves you gently through your orgasm, his hands wrapped around your hips, lifting you up and down over him slowly as you come down.

Knowing you for as long as he has, knowing that after you come like that, you can't move; Sam takes care of you, because that's what he does, and that's his job. He lies you back on his bed and gives you a small drink of water you didn't even know you needed. When he lies down next to you, he runs his fingers up and down your skin while you catch your breath.

He kisses you softly and whispers, "There's my good girl."

 


End file.
